Page 14

B riar stands unabashedly nude mere paces away, clutching Jace’s shirt to her chest, hair gathered off her elegant nape. Even from this angle, I can make out the crimson glyphs seared into her hips and thigh.

Irrational possessiveness surges through my veins like a drug. Her throat bobs with each shallow breath, breasts rising and falling. She’s not scared—not that I thought she would be. Forcing my gaze from her nude form, I latch onto the final emblem on her nape—the Marston basilisk, jaws hanging open to show the wicked fang details.

“Don’t waste your energy getting dressed,” I grate out, far more controlled than the fierce undercurrents roiling inside. Briar stiffens at my voice, expressive eyes snapping to mine in the reflection.

Her brow furrows in a petulant scowl as she whirls to face me, clutching the shirt tighter. That obstinate tilt of her chin and tightening of plush lips tell me she’s gearing up to unleash her scathing tongue.

With a crisp headshake, I forge on. “I’ve selected an appropriate ensemble befitting your new station.”

A shudder races through her lissome form, stormy eyes flaring then narrowing to slits. That bottom lip gets sucked between her teeth defiantly, making my fingers flex with the urge to wrench it free.

“Like hell I’ll play dress-up and be paraded around like some vapid doll because you arrogant pricks demand it,” she sneers, brittle barbs dripping with vitriol. Reckless bravado sparks brighter with each rasp past her lips.

The sight is more intoxicating than aged scotch. Even stripped bare, Briar possesses an inherent ferocity that calls to something primal deep in my blackened core. An untamed spirit demanding to be subjugated and remoulded, broken down to foundations then rebuilt into the perfect instrument.

Rage sparks along my nerves, that last shred of restraint fraying. I don’t really register my own movements, door swinging shut behind me before my hand finds the handle lock. Its click is almost deafening in the silence.

Jace’s muffled swearing echoes dully from the other side, a fist thudding against oak. I spare the interruption no consideration, zeroing in on Briar mere feet away.

“! Fuck… Open the door, mate! Don’t do something fucking stupid!”

Oppressive silence stretches taut, punctured only by Jace’s frantic pounding. But I refuse to be deterred from this pivotal confrontation.

With each measured step, Briar remains rooted in place—stubborn jaw clenching while challenges crackle in the volatile air. Feminine curves sway subtly with her shallow breaths, dusky nipples pebbled into stiff peaks.

By the time my boots halt scant inches from her arched feet, Jace’s bellows fade to a dull throb underscoring the tension sparking my nerves. Leaning down brings my stare level with hers, the remnants of Jace’s cologne still clinging to her skin from his sheets wafting over me with each scorching exhale past parted lips.

This close, I can make out the tracery of veins beneath freckled cheekbones, the flare of her nostrils as her chest heaves with a subtle electricity crackling between our bodies. Even her defiance can’t conceal the involuntary flinch shivering through shapely limbs—nor dilating pupils as she drinks in my imposing proximity.

Bracing a palm flat against the mirror cages her between the surface and my immovable frame. I bask in plush curves inadvertently arching into my space, welcoming the blistering friction of body heat mingling until we smoulder from the inside out.

“Listen carefully, dura?ka.” My voice resonates with lethal undercurrent. “You’ve got two options. Accept your situation with grace, embrace this fate—and want for nothing. Every indulgence imaginable, yours to wield or squander.”

Fingers twitch, aching to wrap around her throat and squeeze until defiant sparks fade from tempestuous eyes.

“Or keep resisting—and I’ll chain you to my bed as my personal plaything. Ravish that pretty pussy over and over.” Gravel fractures my voice, tension crackling. “From dusk to fucking dawn, I’ll fuck you into submission, claiming that tempting cunt until my cum spawns in your belly. Fuck you day in, day out until you’re a husk hopelessly addicted to being reduced to a whimpering mess, craving my cock in your throat just to breathe.”

The threat ripples visibly across her features. Eyes wide, lips parting on a tremulous inhale… yet her stare stays locked on mine, molten bravado flaring. Heartbeats pass before—

“You’ll need more than pathetic posturing and empty threats to intimidate me into submission, Whitlocke.”

Hayes’ rich purr slithers through the stillness that follows that muttered challenge, momentarily breaking my focus. Briar’s gaze doesn’t waver but pink lips quirk upward.

“. Breakfast is ready whenever you two are—Jesus, Jace, they’re just talking…” His voice trails off then returns. “When you’re done with the pissing contest, get moving. And don’t forget Briar’s marks need medication before we start the day.”

Despite the interruption, neither of us reacts beyond subtle shifts—statues locked in a silent battle of wills. Stormy irises bore into mine, daring me to blink first and lose ground.

My jaw muscle twitches, teeth clenching until enamel screams. No, backing down is unacceptable. Not after that ultimatum to her obstinate face. Faltering would embolden her infuriating refusal to accept her new reality.

In a flash, my fingers curl around her slender throat, thumb braced against the hollow for leverage. A gasp accompanies her spine’s reflexive arch, lush curves shivering as I apply pressure to trigger her primal flight response.

The effect is instantaneous, shocking in it’s intensity.

Rather than raw panic or attempts to scramble free, a sinfully decadent moan spills from her parted lips. A heady flush floods slender cheekbones, soaking her pert breasts in vermilion.

Focus narrowing on that unrestrained pleasure, I’m swamped by the exquisite visual of her writhing form in my head. Thighs clenching, muscles twitching with strain. Smooth ribcage shuddering, sensual curves undulating against my grip.

An inferno ignites in my groin, cock hardening to rigid steel despite stubborn attempts at control. Notions of caution evaporate at Briar so utterly abandoned to being roughly manhandled.

I need to hate her. Need to stay in control…

Cocking my head, I lean in until plush lips exhale hot bursts against my mouth. She whimpers needily, tremors ricocheting along my nerves.

So close… I bet she tastes like—

The wardrobe door ricochets off the wall, shattering the overwrought tension like a bombshell. We instinctively jerk apart, fingers springing from her throat as a furious objection resounds.

“! Fuck. Get off her, mate!” Jace barrels in like a freight train, exasperation twisting his face. I cut him off with a withering glare before he can object.

“ Back. Off. ” The rebuke resonates with a lethal edge. “It was well in hand until you shattered the fucking doorframe like a battering ram.”

Briar scoffs derisively, still pinned and clutching the shirt. Gaze locked on me—stormy defiance smouldering with naked desire, sparking fresh lust through my lower abdomen.

“Oh, because you’ve handled everything else with such finesse?” Jace’s droll response snaps my focus back. Jaw clenching, my fingers itch to throttle him instead. “Rich coming from the one riding our arses for weeks about not cocking this initiation up further. You’re barely keeping it together.”

Scorching heat flushes my nape. His talent for pinpointing chinks in my armour and utter lack of self-preservation is precisely what’s let him toe the line all these years without me strangling him. Or so I tell myself.

Sucking a measured breath, I rein in the volatile impulses. Rhys has joined us, lingering just beyond the door in apprehension bordering on dread. Before I can unleash a scathing diatribe, Briar’s husky timbre slices the silence.

“Weeks?” Incredulity drips from the syllable, stoking my fury. I zero in on her pugnacious stance, hip cocked in challenge. “What the fuck is he on about? You lot going to explain or keep me guessing while getting jerked around as your hostage plaything?”

Even through the lingering haze, I recognize the deliberate provocation. A muscle twitches along my jaw, earlier temper blazing back to life.

“For fuck’s sake, Jace…” Pinching my nose bridge, I inhale to quell pulsing ire. “If you’d shut up rather than spraying verbal diarrhoea, we could’ve continued without another pointless problem.”

My disdainful stare cuts from him to Briar, sapphire depths dancing with indignant sparks. Watching comprehension dawn slowly across delicate features sends a perverse thrill racing through my groin. Plump lips parting, brow creasing, nostrils flaring as fury floods her senses—Christ, she’s fucking infuriating in an arousing way.

The savouring of each minuscule reaction, imagining the scathing retorts churning through Briar’s defiant mind before voicing them. That pyre of vitriol and fearlessness draws my attention like a lodestone, compelling me to poke at it just to see it blaze brighter.

“In case you forgot in your haze of brainless lust, she’s already marked as ours,” Hayes slices through my musings, spiking fresh irritation. “Our ‘hostage plaything’ has earned a crumb of truth now that those garish monstrosities are seared into her flesh for the world to gawk at. Unless the plan is to keep strapping on the blindfold and leading the lamb to slaughter.”

Briar’s confusion transmutes into an odd calm, expressive eyes regarding me with cool expectation tinged with a flicker of nerves. Fuck if I know what’s going on in that contrary brain. All I can focus on is the alluring tilt of shapely hips as she shifts, lush curves swaying with each shallow inhale while clutching fabric to her chest.

“I don’t belong to anybody. Especially not you entitled, arrogant arseholes.”

The feminine lilt slices through my reawakening arousal. I freeze, the resolute cadence triggering unnamable gut tension. Perhaps it’s the conviction blazing behind stormy irises or the obstinate chin tilt. Or the irresistible juxtaposition of ferocious steel wrapped in a delicate form dripping sensual allure.

Either way, it’s enough to make my shaft twitch against suddenly-stifling trouser confines. When Briar meets my glacial stare, throat bobbing as she takes me in from boots to crown, it’s all I can do not to stalk over and—

“Fuck me, you really do have brass balls, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Hayes’ mocking admiration spurs me into action. Pivoting, I stride until my bulk blocks Briar from their view. Let those fools focus on speculating about her supposed bravado. I have more important priorities.

“Shut your mouth before I shove my cock in it and make you swallow every inch.” The guttural snarl rolls off my tongue, syllables dripping with scalding venom. Yet it only elicits a defiantly arched brow and a hint of a smirk.

“I’d love for you to try, pretty boy… if only so I can bite the damn thing clean off and spit it at your feet, you arrogant cocksucker.” Her soft soprano imbues each disdainful syllable with a razor’s edge. The raw fearlessness behind that rejoinder hits me like a blow, winding my lungs and unleashing a torrent of searing lust through my veins.

I’m moving before conscious thought materialises. One hand seizes a fistful of blonde tresses, jerking Briar off-balance. Feral gratification surges at the pained cry from pouty lips—matched by the erotic sight of her throat arching as she struggles against my grip.

From pain or pleasure, her writhing only heightens the delectable friction searing my palm. A grunt forces past clenched teeth as nails scrabble against my wrist, legs scissoring to regain footing.

Our gazes lock, her irises flashing mutinous defiance inches from my face. This close, I pick up on flaring nostrils and breasts heaving with laboured exertion. More importantly, the scorching flush across high cheekbones and pupils dilating until they swallow the storm-tossed hue of her irises entirely. Every one of Briar’s instincts undoubtedly is either screaming to succumb to the same delirious swell of desire whipping through my own veins, or to flee.

Something primal thrashes to life in my core—an unrelenting beast slavering for a taste of that tempting flesh. Restraint threatens to dissipate, engulfed by molten lust searing my loins. Vaguely aware of panicked shouts and thundering footfalls drawing near, none of it pierces the red haze descending beyond a distant ambiance.

In one fluid motion, my free hand wraps around Briar’s throat with bruising force. Silvery irises transform into pools of liquid onyx fuelled by depraved carnality roaring to life, a husky groan rumbling from deep in my chest as I savour her pupils blowing wider with shock. The grip I have on her scalp elicits another ragged whimper that scorches through me, every muscle coiling with feral tension.

“To be saddled with such an insufferably mouthy little cu—What the fu—”

My snarled diatribe gets severed as a wall of muscle wedges between us. Belatedly registering the bulk shoving me back, it takes every ounce of discipline not to lash out at the intrusion.

Hayes glowers, jaw clenched, flanked by Jace. The pair fashion a human barricade separating Briar and me—an offence I bristle against despite rationally conceding the necessity. Focus narrowing on the chit shrouded behind their bulk, Briar’s chest heaves, hand pressed to her abused larynx. Hot tears well along her lashline, mascara smudging ever so slightly as her blood pressure attempts to return to normal.

Even with the two men in front of me, all I focus on are alluring parted lips and tousled tendrils framing delicate features. Sweeping over the cleavage vee bracketed by her arm, I drink in the way her breasts rise and fall with ragged breaths.

Fuck, I want to wrench her close and bury my face between those lush mounds before feeling the scorching heat of her mouth enveloping my—

“Whitlocke!”

The cutting reprimand lances through my reverie. With effort, I tear my stare from Briar’s temptation and meet their gazes. Jace’s expression is solemn, mouth grim and stare unwavering. Hayes radiates displeasure. Canting my head, I fix them with a look, daring them to voice the rebuke smouldering on their tongues.

“Get your shite together before this goes further, mate,” Hayes brooks no argument. “Hansley warned this initiation wouldn’t be straightforward, but she couldn’t predict how off the rails it’s spinning. One wrong step and we’re in deep shite for failing protocols. Kavanagh will strip our ranks and reassign us as grunts scrubbing bedpans if that happens. Want a repeat of last year?”

A muscle feathers along my jaw, the admonition striking a dissonant chord. He’s right—failing such a high-stakes induction after months of scrutiny would see our faction relegated to disgraced foot soldiers. No family reputation or commendations would exempt us.

Glancing at Briar, I sweep molten eyes over her dishevelled state in the wake of my lapse in control. Reddened abrasions bloom along her throat in a lurid display of my fingers. Wild tangles of muted gold frame the delicate features of her face in disarray. Tear-streaked cheeks and swollen, pouting lips…

Captivating fragility exuding unbridled fire and fury.

“Fuck…” Latching onto the slender willpower thread, I force the words through gritted teeth. “Right… Hayes, get Briar dressed. Jace, put your cock away and find clothes. Rhys… help Hayes with her brands. Everybody find something productive to fucking do.”

Tension crackles, Jace and Hayes exchanging a silent conversation through minute gestures. Against better judgement, I allow one final lingering sweep over Briar before pivoting and striding to the corner with purposeful steps.

Behind me, Hayes’ hand wraps around Briar’s bicep, guiding her out of the closet with surprising gentleness. Muffled footsteps echo soft pats against hardwood, fabric rustling with each halting step until the door clangs shut, swinging back slightly when the broken latch doesn’t catch.

Only then do I permit the clusterfuck’s full weight to bear down. Hand snaking up to tangle in cropped nape strands, a ragged exhale spills from clenched teeth. Christ, if I can’t maintain composure during a simple standoff, how can I oversee such an integral operation? Pinching my nose bridge, I tamp down the warring lust and rage through brute force.

Something about Briar tugs at buried impulses and instincts. Erratic flare-ups of primal lust and savage fury erupting at the merest glimpse of ocean irises or bowed lips. Perhaps it’s resentment. Briar has the freedom of ignorance, the freedom to—more or less—act as she pleases. Because at the end of the day… her fate is already sealed, regardless of how we get there.

Navigating that minefield while guiding her through Hansley’s stringent gauntlet sends a shudder of trepidation down my spine. One misstep, one weakness… and every sacrifice will be for naught.

“Get your head in the game, ,” I mutter through clenched teeth, bracing palms against a shelf as I square shoulders. Now isn’t the time to lose focus on the bigger picture—gaining the chit’s compliance is one skirmish on a larger field.

Ultimately, only the path to the Order’s inner sanctum and initiation into exalted ranks matters. The promise of wielding that influence has driven me this far. For centuries, the Order has cultivated the facade, decimating rivals behind the scenes, aligning pieces across a complex board.

I want to own that fucking board.

Failure isn’t an option.